by Lynn Hagen
Jordan tensed. No one around the table knew about Mason’s troubles. They had no clue that this stranger may be here to use Jordan as leverage. Then again, Jordan just might be paranoid. The guy could be harmless.
The stranger sauntered over the counter and started talking with Halo. Jordan kept his eyes on the guy, watching him closely.
“Hey.” Casey batted Jordan’s arm with his hand. “You’re not supposed to be eye-fucking him.”
Jordan glared at Cory before he slid his phone from his pocket and pretended to text, but he was really taking a picture of the stranger. He would send the picture to Mason to see if he knew who the man was.
Again, Jordan may be making something out of nothing. A lot of new residents had come to Wildfire. Jordan didn’t know most of the people who lived there.
Casey watched Jordan, a frown puckering between his eyes. He looked as though he wanted to ask what Jordan was doing, but Jordan got up and headed to the bathroom before Casey could.
He sent the picture to Mason’s phone as he entered the bathroom. Seconds later, Mason called. “Get the hell out of there. I’ll meet you by city hall.”
Jordan’s heart migrated to his throat. “He’s the one after you, isn’t he?”
“Stop wasting time and get moving,” Mason barked.
“Wait. If you’re gonna meet me that means you’re in town. I thought I told you not to come back here just because of me.”
“I followed that guy back to Wildfire,” Mason explained. “He’s not someone to mess with, Jordan. He’s a professional. Now get out of the tavern and meet me.”
After hanging up, Jordan swallowed as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. He knew Mason’s problem was serious, but knowing the man at the counter was a professional killer had him ready to throw up.
Could he seriously deal with this kind of life? What if someone came after Mason again? What if this wasn’t the last time Mason had a killer after him?
Jordan tucked his phone into his pocket. He’d started for the bathroom door when it opened.
And the stranger walked in.
Chapter Nine
The color bled from Jordan’s knuckles as he gripped the edge of the sink. As hard as he tried not to show fear, Jordan shook. Oh God. He was gonna die in a public restroom, probably gutted like a fish or garroted with a piece of piano wire.
The thought made Jordan almost piss his pants as he wondered if he could run past the guy and make it out the bathroom door. I won’t make this easy for you.
Why hadn’t he run from the tavern instead of trapping himself in a bathroom? Better yet, he should’ve stayed within sight of his friends while he sent the picture to Mason. Now he was all alone, and the professional killer would be able to do what he wanted before casually exiting the bathroom and disappearing without anyone being the wiser.
He glanced around but didn’t see anything he could use as a weapon.
“I’m not here to hurt you.” The stranger leaned against the door.
“So what, you’re gonna use me as leverage?” If only Jordan had his tool belt, but he’d left it at home when he’d gone to let the dogs out. He would have at least had his hammer.
“In a way.” The guy nodded. “I need to find Mason, and so far he’s stayed pretty well hidden. I need you to draw him out.”
“Are you fucking stupid?” The words had automatically slipped out. Jordan hadn’t meant to insult the guy who could end him. “Torture me all you want, but I’ll never lead you to Mason.”
The stranger pushed away from the door and stalked toward Jordan. “He’s nothing more than a lover to you. Is Mason really worth your life?”
Mason had become so much more than a lover to Jordan. He’d become Jordan’s entire world, and yes, Jordan would fight to protect him.
He really, really hoped it didn’t come to that, though. Jordan wasn’t ready to die.
Bracing his shoulders, Jordan stuck his chin out. “Yes, he’s worth anything you want to do to me.”
Jordan’s heart thumped so hard that his chest hurt. His mouth had gone bone-dry, and he had to suppress the urge to beg for his life. He wasn’t some badass mercenary like Mason, but he would rather die standing than on his knees begging.
Maybe. That all depended on how much pain the guy could inflict.
Jordan might show bravado to this stranger, but on the inside, he was shaking apart.
“Are you sure about that?” He reached behind him and pulled a gun from his waistband. Jordan couldn’t stop the whimper. His gaze drilled into the gun as he stood his ground, the bathroom seeming to grow colder for some reason. “I’m-I’m sure.”
Flat, expressionless eyes bored into him. “If that’s how you feel.”
Mason ran toward the tavern at breakneck speed, wishing he hadn’t left his motorcycle behind the station. If Raven had done something to Jordan…Mason squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, refusing to believe he’d already lost the man he loved.
He nearly ripped the tavern door off its hinges as he entered Gallagher’s. The music, the cling of beer mugs, the laughter, and the sound of pool balls cracking together became one big blurred noise as he scanned the room. He saw Darien and the other men, but Jordan wasn’t with them.
“Hey, Mason,” Darien called from across the room. He waved for Mason to join them.
Mason approached their table. “Where’s Jordan?”
“He hit the head,” Darien said. “Been in there a while. You might wanna go and check on him.”
Mason moved toward the bathroom before Darien had finished talking. He stopped just outside the door and blew out a series of short breaths. Jordan’s not dead. Jordan’s not dead. He repeated the mantra several times, as if wishing it would make it true.
Please, God, please don’t let Jordan be dead.
With his heart thumping wildly, Mason pushed the bathroom door open, readying himself for an attack, or seeing the man he loved lying in his own pool of cooling blood.
As soon as he stepped inside, Raven swung away from Mason, putting distance between them, his gun drawn. His handler looked way too calm—the same kind of calm Mason had always descended into before a kill.
“No sudden movements,” Raven warned.
“Mason!” Jordan took a step toward Mason, but stopped at the last second to stare at Raven.
“Are you hurt?” Mason couldn’t chance looking Jordan over for any injuries. He couldn’t risk taking his eyes off Raven.
“No.” Fear trembled in Jordan’s voice. Mason ground his molars at Jordan being in imminent danger.
“Walk out of here, Jordan,” Mason said as he continued to stare into Raven’s passionless eyes.
“What? No! I’m not leaving you.” Jordan took another step, inching toward Mason. Only ten feet were between them, but it might as well have been a million miles with Raven’s weapon pointed at Mason’s chest.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Mason snarled. Not only did he have to worry about Jordan getting hurt, but any innocent bystander who might walk into this disaster.
Mason needed to end Raven, but he couldn’t do that with Jordan in the room. His lover might get caught in the crossfire, and Mason couldn’t take that chance.
“I’m not leaving,” Jordan said resolutely. “Threaten me all you want, but I won’t walk away knowing this man is going to kill you.”
“He’s got a spine, I’ll give him that,” Raven said.
Something wasn’t right. Raven should’ve shot Jordan by now and gone after Mason as soon as he’d walked into the bathroom. Why was Raven stalling? What did he have up his sleeve?
“The agency sent you to erase me?” Mason had to buy time. He had to get Jordan out of there. He was tempted to throw him out of the bathroom, but any sudden movements might set Raven off.
Raven slowly shook his head. “They weren’t even aware of the Baltimore assignment. Elijah Barona was only a person of interest, not a target.”
Pieces started clicking togeth
er. It had felt like a setup, and now Mason knew the truth. “You sent me there to die. Why?”
The arm that held the gun was as steady as a rock. People normally couldn’t hold a weapon on someone for that long before their muscles started burning and their hand began to shake. Not Raven. It was as if his arm were made of granite.
“I was fed false intel,” Raven explained. His eyes flickered between Mason and Jordan every few seconds, but not long enough for Mason to try anything.
“How do I know you’re not lying?” Mason asked.
“Because both of you are still breathing.”
“I saw you go to my house.”
Raven’s eyes widened just a fraction, as if he were surprised Mason had gotten the drop on him. “I went there to warn you.”
It all sounded a little too convenient to Mason. If their roles were reversed, he would say whatever he had to in order to disarm his target, to make him feel relaxed and trusting. But Mason had been in this game for far too long to be lulled into a false sense of security.
With a growl, Mason dove for Raven. The gun fell to the floor as he slammed his handler into the wall. Raven shoved Mason aside and went for his gun, but Mason grabbed Raven’s legs and yanked him back. They rolled on the bathroom floor, both reaching for the weapon.
Jordan picked the gun up and took a few steps back, aiming it at them. His hands shook and his eyes were wide.
“Get your finger off the damn trigger,” Raven snapped. “That’s not how you hold a gun.”
“Like I would know!” Jordan squawked. “I’ve never held a gun in my life. But you better believe I’ll shoot you if you don’t move away from Mason.”
Both men got to their feet. Raven held his arms out, showing Jordan he was unarmed and harmless. Right. “I’m not the one after Mason. I’m not the one who set him up. I was used, as well. We’re both pawns in this.”
“Then who the fuck is after me?” Mason snapped as he moved slowly toward Jordan and eased the gun from his shaky hands. Raven had been right about Jordan holding the weapon. His finger had been on the trigger. One small sneeze, a tiny finger jerk, and the gun would’ve gone off.
Mason shoved the gun into his waistband before facing his handler.
“I don’t know.” Raven crossed his arms, relaxing against the wall. “Whoever it is, he’s good. I’ve been unable to identify him, but I was able to follow him to Wildfire.”
“If you don’t know who he is, then how did you follow him?” Jordan asked.
Mason moved closer to his lover. He was dying to pull Jordan into his arms, but he had to keep his guard up. Raven was damn good at his job, and Mason still didn’t trust him.
“Even the best leave clues behind,” Raven said. “His backstop identity is damn impressive. Not even I could dig up who he really is.”
“His what?” Jordan asked.
“A backstop identity is a false identity used by agents,” Mason explained. “If it’s good enough, it can withstand scrutiny from anyone trying to find out who the person really is.” It went deeper than that, but Mason wanted to keep the explanation simple.
“I tracked him down to an apartment in Virginia and found clues that he was headed this way,” Raven said.
“And you could be blowing smoke up my ass,” Mason snapped.
“Why would I do that? I’m the one who recruited you,” Raven said. “If I’d wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Whoever this is, he’s enjoying the game, savoring the chase before he goes in for the kill. He’s a rogue operative that needs to be stopped.”
Mason jabbed his finger against Raven’s chest. “When this is over, I’m retired. You got that? No agency favors, no pulling me back in. I’m done, Raven. If anyone even sniffs my way, I’ll blow their damn head off.”
“You’ll have to take that up with Bowman,” Raven said. “That’s not my call.”
Mason was five seconds away from shooting him and eliminating a possible threat. What he said sounded plausible, but Mason still wasn’t convinced Raven wasn’t the bad guy in all of this.
If the agency did nothing else, it bred mistrust—especially when Mason had been set up and he wasn’t sure why. Everyone was a suspect until he got to the bottom of things.
But if Raven wasn’t out to kill him, then who the hell was? Who would send Mason to be killed by Elijah Barona? None of this made any sense. Sure, Mason had made plenty of enemies in his line of work, but he’d always operated under a false identity. No one knew who he truly was.
As if reading his thoughts, Raven said, “Someone has a hard-on for you, and since I’m already here, I’ll help you take him down.”
“I don’t need your help,” Mason growled. He removed the clip from the gun, emptied the chamber, then gave Raven back his weapon. “Leave Wildfire and never return. We’re done.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Raven warned. “Whoever the rogue operative is, he’s damn good, Mason.” He looked toward Jordan. “You have people to protect. Are you sure you can do that on your own?”
“Tell Bowman I’ll be in to see him as soon as this matter is settled.” Mason grabbed Jordan’s hand and led him from the bathroom. He didn’t stop at the table where Darien and the others sat. He kept going, taking Jordan home.
“If this was happening to anyone else, I’d be intrigued,” Jordan said as they entered the house through the sliding glass door. “But since I’m in the thick of it, I can tell you that I’m scared shitless.”
“Wait right here,” Mason said. “I need to check the house.”
Jordan nodded as Buster and Wally sat obediently next to him, as if Mason had given them the order, as well. And he thought dealing with Michael’s issues was migraine-inducing. That was nothing compared to what Mason was going through. Nothing compared to what Jordan felt as he stood there glancing around the dark kitchen, fighting the impulse to turn on every light in the house.
Wally whimpered, as if feeling Jordan’s anxiety.
“Everything’s cool,” he said more to himself than the dog. “No one is in here.”
Besides, if someone were in the house, wouldn’t the dogs have gone nuts? They barked like crazy anytime anyone came by. Of course, they’d probably lick a burglar to death, but they’d still let Jordan and Mason know there was a visitor—even if that visitor was out to kill them.
When Mason headed back their way, he was carrying some handheld device. He swept it over everything. Jordan was dying to ask what he was doing, but Mason had put a finger to his lips.
Finally, he set the device down. “No one is here and no bugs have been planted.”
Jordan let out a long-held breath. “I need a damn drink.”
“You and me both.” Mason drew Jordan into his arms “I’m sorry you got pulled into this. I tried to leave to keep you safe, but that didn’t quite work out.”
Jordan knew Mason hadn’t purposefully brought a professional killer to town. No one in their right mind would. “I just want this to be over. We haven’t even settled into our life together yet.”
“I promise we’ll get there, and you’ll be so bored with me that you’ll be ready to yank your hair out.”
Jordan seriously doubted that. He’d never known anyone who could hold this much love in their heart for a single person. As Mason held him, Jordan felt that love expand and wrap around him, making his cock hard as he slid his hands up Mason’s chest. “Do you think it would be safe to fool around?”
Mason nipped his chin. “Only death itself would stop me from trying to get into your pants.”
Jordan shivered. “Don’t even joke about death right now.”
“Sorry.” Mason kissed him with slow, simmering passion, working Jordan’s need higher and higher. Sex should be the last thing on his mind right now, but all he could think about was getting Mason naked.
Jordan looked at Buster and Wally, who were watching them closely. “Go to your room, boys.”
Buster barked, as if resenting the fact he was being kicked ou
t. Wally trotted away, his favorite chew toy clamped between his teeth. Buster actually sniffed before he followed his friend.
“I swear they’re part human,” Jordan said as he shook his head. “And I think Buster is conspiring against me.”
Mason chuckled. “He just hates being away from us.”
“You,” Jordan corrected. “He whined the entire time you were gone.” Maybe not the entire time.
Jordan reached into one of the junk drawers in the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom. Mason arched a brow, and Jordan grinned. “I put stashes all over the house. You never know when the need might arise.”
“Oh, I’m rising all right.” Mason spun Jordan and trapped him against the counter. He pressed his erection into Jordan’s backside. “I missed this ass.”
“It missed you.” Jordan unfastened his pants and pushed them down to his knees. Mason bent him farther over and inserted two lubed fingers inside him.
Jordan hissed at the burn, groaning as Mason pumped his fingers into his body. “Need you now.”
“Gonna be a rough ride, baby.” Mason pulled them free. Jordan heard the crinkle of the condom wrapper, then the head of Mason’s cock was at his hole.
Jordan’s fingers curled around the edge of the counter as Mason drove deep inside him. His cock stretched Jordan’s ass as he set a fast pace. This was exactly what Jordan needed, what he’d craved. Mason’s pounding reminded Jordan that he was alive, that he loved the man fucking him, and that life—hopefully—wouldn’t always be crazy.
Jordan grabbed his bobbing cock and pulled at the hardened flesh, stroking himself.
Mason was the first to climax. His hands dug into Jordan’s sides as he shouted his release. His hips jerked and faltered, but Mason pistoned into him until Jordan writhed, his cum shooting against the cabinets.
He collapsed, cheek to counter as he caught his breath. Mason eased out of him and tossed the condom in the trash. “Bed, babe.”
Jordan pushed from the counter and grabbed Mason’s bicep, stopping him from walking away.
“I love you.” Jordan didn’t think he could say those words enough, so he repeated them. “I love you.”